Niche
by CasusFere
Summary: Vampire:the Requiem. A Lancea Sanctum bishop seeks a way to use his city's political turmoil to oust the Circle...
1. Chapter 1

"Maybe if your templars could hit the broadside of a barn," sniped von Ritterburg.

"Maybe if our intelligence wasn't so fucking out of date, we would have been prepared to deal with the fucking machine gun!" The Ventrue templar glared, and the inquisitor glared right back.

"Your 'intelligence' is precisely the problem. The stupidity of you and your templars just cost me three weeks of investigation! The resources invested in that strike will not be easy to replace."

"Bullshit. You 'invested resources?' What, a friggin' paper telescope? I'm seeing severe lack of accurate reports! Not one fucking mention of anything larger than a shotgun, and suddenly were running into a fucking machine gun emplacement!"

"The reports were accurate. I can't find everything. You're supposed to be the tactical genius here. Improvise!"

"Oh children?" Vanil looked back over his shoulder at his squabbling lieutenants. "Shut up. Both of you. Stop whining about what happened and figure out how to salvage this fucking mess." The Lancea Sanctum bishop leaned forward in his char, picking out a page from the papers scattered across the table before him. His lips quirked in a sardonic half-smile as the grumbling templar and sullen inquisitor sat down.

The three made an odd trio. Erich von Ritterburg, Church Inquisitor- his black leather trench coat had the hammer and spear emblem of Lancea Sanctum emblazoned across the back and over the heart. The inquisitor was a quiet man, usually preferring to work in shadow and subtly when not baiting Lexi Banner for amusement. Right now, he was glaring in earnest across the table, a change from his usually secretive and mocking smirk.

Alexander Banner, the very model of a Ventrue, immaculately dressed in the very latest of high fashion and mirror shades perched on his head, his demeanor, usually both arrogant and competent, was submerged in his current frustration. At first glance, Lexi Banner was nothing more than another yuppie businessman, but his appearance and penchant for high living belied his equal love for violence and weaponry. His fanatical devotion to Lancea Sanctum had earned him both his priesthood and his position as the leader of the templars. When presented with the three highest-ranking Sanctified in the city, people often mistook Lexi for the bishop, a situation that afforded him no end of amusement.

Bishop Vanil himself looked nothing like the usual image of a bishop, or indeed any church leader. _Maybe it's the Mohawk?_ He thought to himself in amusement. He hadn't bothered spiking his hair in years, but between hairstyle, piercings, ripped leather jacket, and the boots, he looked like the street punk John Vanil had been before he'd picked a fight with the wrong biker. His Gangrel sire had been impressed by his tenacity, and had Embraced the 17-year-old punk after giving Vanil the most thorough beating he'd ever had, before or since.

The bishop tapped the metal ball of his tongue ring against the back of his teeth, examining the building diagram before handing it to the templar-priest. He rummaged through the papers before coming up with a dossier. Examining the photo, he spoke in a deceptively calm voice, "So does anyone want to explain how a fucking Daeva outwitted and outgunned what are supposed to be my best men?"

Shamefaced, Lexi stared at the paper in his hands. Erich didn't bother pretending to examine the papers. He'd already memorized everything of importance in the reports. After all, all the reports had either been written by him, or passed through his hands before reaching the bishop. He stayed silent, hoping he wouldn't have to actually answer the bishop.

After a moment, the bishop looked up at them both with cold eyes. "Where did the machine gun come from, Erich?"

"I… do not know. I had agents watching the place during the day, we auspexed the place at night. It… shouldn't be there. I scouted the place myself, less than a week ago, and found no signs of it."

"Then why the Hell is it shooting at my people. 'Shouldn't be there!' Dammit, where did it come from!"

"I don't know! It had to been there before we began our surveillance. But it was set up when we arrived; if it was there the whole time, they pulled it out just for us." Erich ran his hands through his short blond hair, and spark of anger lit his eyes. "We have a leak. Bah. If there's a traitor in the surveillance team, they could have brought in those armaments easily enough any time in the last two weeks."

Glad to have someone else to legitimately blame for the disaster, Lexi sneered, "What, a traitor in your precious inquisitors? Can't you even keep your own ranks loyal?"

Erich's voice was icy. "The surveillance team wasn't even primarily inquisitors. My people are loyal enough. I'll find the traitor, and deal with him."

"Find him quickly, Erich. We're going back to visit Mr. Brock. I want to know where that machine gun, and the rest of the weapons they were carrying, came from. Lexi, ready the templars." He stood, and the others followed suit. The bishop's 5'7" frame only came to Lexi's chin, but neither lieutenant doubted the whispered rumors that the three long rips down the left side of his jacket were claw marks of a Lupine. Halfway out the door, Vanil stopped and looked back at Erich. "Oh, and when you find the traitor? Make an example of him… a messy one."

The templar and inquisitor stared at each other in silence for a moment. "Well, you heard the man," Lexi said finally.


	2. Chapter 2

Lexi shouldered his AK-47, watching the templars from behind mirror shades. Scattered gunfire could still be heard over shattering glass and the occasional scream. Resistance was over for the most part; the templars were finishing off wounded enemies, making sure the fallen stayed down, and indulging in random acts of vandalism.

Between one burst of gunfire and the next, Erich appeared at his elbow. Lexi glanced over at the inquisitor, not at all disturbed by the entrance. "Second time's the charm?"

Erich ignored him, watching a vampire lighting a Molotov cocktail and chucking it through a shattered window. "I wonder if he bothered to make sure everyone was clear of that first," he mused, his native German accent coloring the words.

Considering the templar's victory dance outside the window – a safe distance from the fire- Lexi snorted, "Probably not. Forethought never was his forte, after all." He looked back to Erich. "You figure out where they picked up the Uzis and that chunk of scrap metal?" He flicked his free hand at the twisted remains of the machine gun. "Pity we couldn't keep it."

"Then don't drop a grenade on it next time. We found the supplier. Want some C-4 and a RPG?"

Lexi showed his fangs in his trademark trigger-happy grin. "Do you have to ask?"

"Good. We'll have to move soon. The shipment's going out within the week. Longer we delay, the more likely you'll loose your new toys."

"Can't have that. You want to hit the place tomorrow, I suppose?" The Ventrue shook his head. "Three major raids in under a week? Kind of pushing our resources, Erich. What sort of resistance you expecting?"

"Guards with Uzis and assorted small arms. Mechanical security is negligible. Most of the guards are ghouls, usually one or two of Palmer's fledgling childer are about." The fire was spreading, aided by a pyromaniac templar, who had apparently lit his own hand on fire.

"Shoot guards, take guns, blow up building. Sounds fun."

"You would think so," groused Erich. "You going to dress for the occasion this time?"

Lexi cocked his head, the fire reflecting in his glasses. "What?"

The Mekhet motioned to his clothes. "You. Here we are, on a raid… you're happily crawling around in the mud and chucking grenades, and you're wearing what, a thousand dollars in clothing?"

Lexi looked down at his clothes. "Close to five, I think. So what? Wouldn't do to be underdressed, now would it?" He grinned. "Besides, AK-47s go with every outfit. Accessorizing for the occasion!"

"I think you missed the point."

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A/N - And here's chapter two. Chapter three's already written and waiting a last overhaul. Now, the only question is, is anyone actually reading this?


	3. Chapter 3

"Clarie!" Vanil spread his hands, pasting a warm smile across his face. "Just the person I was hoping to see!"

"Come to gloat, Bishop?" The willowy Daeva tossed her long, platinum-blonde hair. "I thought such things were beneath even you."

Vanil endeavored to look confused. "Gloat? What did I do that I'd be gloating?"

"Don't be coy. The attack on Timothy Brock's haven!"

"Oh, yes, I'd heard something about that. Terrible shame… One can't be safe in one's own haven these days. Tell me, do you have any leads on who it was?"

"We know who it was: your templars!"

"My dear, don't you think I'd know if my templars were out raiding? Lexi and Erich have been busy scheming on something else _entirely_ this past week, and they wouldn't go behind my back like that!"

She stared down at the wide-eyed Gangrel. "Either you're a cunning bastard or a complete idiot, Vanil. The Goddess help me if I can decide which."

Vanil looked like he wasn't sure whether he had just been complimented or insulted. Waving it away, he caught her elbow and practically dragged the priestess towards a table, cheerful smile back in place.

Clarie eyed the hand on her elbow, fingers and knuckled marred by a myriad of small scars. _Marks of a misspent youth,_ she thought to herself. _Not that it looks like he had time to outgrow that youth. _With his eyes alight, chattering and practically bouncing along at her side, Vanil looked for the world like a hyper six-year-old stuck in a teenaged punk's body. _Must have been the charisma and boundless enthusiasm that gained him his position; it certainly wasn't his restraint._

A pat on her arm pulled her out of her musings. "Are you still worrying about that attack? Don't worry, I'll have Erich look into it. He'll find out who it was in no time." She searched his eyes for any sort of duplicity, as he gazed up at her guilelessly. Eventually she sighed and turned away. _I daresay the idiot has a crush on me. _A quick sideways glance showed no cunning glint; that damnable cheery smile was back. Fighting down her irritation, she suffered herself to be seated. Vanil plopped himself in the next chair. She let the inane chatter wash over her. _This is going to be a long night._ It'd be bad form for her to leave Elysium so early, but it was tempting. Very tempting.

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"How was the raid?"

Lexi glared sullenly from where he was sitting with his feet on Vanil's desk. "There was no RPGs."

"The rest of it?" Vanil tossed the keys down next to the templar-priest's feet.

"RPG-free. Dammit, why can't I have just one!?"

The bishop leaned over and glared down at him. "Lexi. How. Did. The. Raid. Go?"

Sulking, the Ventrue stared at his shoes and muttered, "Fine. It went fine. Guards died, idiot fledgling number one is kissing Final Death, and Erich's got number two. Think he's becoming a hands-on experiment for Erich's little squad. And I didn't get any RPGs."

"Records? Receipts?"

"Erich and his little merry band snagged every scrap of paper and hard drive they could get their claws on. If he doesn't have it, it went boom with the rest of the building." He sighed. "It's a curse. Every time I try to get one, I get _this close_, and something goes wrong. _Every_ time!"

"Oh, stop whining. Think positive. Didn't you have fun tonight? Expend lots of clips of ammo?"

"Two magazines. That's it. Two! And I didn't even finish off the second one. Pissing-ass boring raid."

"Go visit Erich, then. He can give you a lesson on interrogation techniques, or something."

"Thanks, but no." Lexi narrowed his eyes at the bishop. "Aren't you just one happy Gangrel tonight. Have fun convincing everyone you're a featherbrained idiot?"

"Quiet, you. And yes, I had fun. Our favorite witch is convinced that you and Erich are conspiring behind my back, blah blah… Also seems to think I'm in love with her."

"Probably has something to do with the big Gangrel-puppy eyes you like to give her."

"Probably," admitted Vanil cheerfully. "I'll have another target for you by next week Meanwhile, I'll be off convincing the rest of the city I'm a harmless, cuddly, violent-yet-utterly-naive punk with an illicit crush on a witch... some nights I love my job."


End file.
